


The Tempestuous Templar

by theCelticMyst



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bad Smut, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 16:54:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9500882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theCelticMyst/pseuds/theCelticMyst
Summary: Cullen and Anastasia Trevelyan spend a romantic evening at the Winter's palace.This is for a bad smut contest for the Dragon Age Fan fiction Facebook page contest.  WARNING:  This is SUPPOSED to be bad smut, the over the top, eye rolling scenes and dialogue ARE intentional.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Again, this is intentionally bad, over the top smut that was written for a February challenge.

Anastasia Persephone Aphrodite Trevelyan could hear the night birds sing welcome to her as she stepped out onto the balcony.  Her crimson cloak fluttered around her and she pulled it tighter, hiding her white satin day.  The dress and cloak were like her, fiery on the outside, but sweet and innocent on the inside.  She had had an exhausting day at the Ball of Death at the Winter Palace.  The beautiful Empress of Orlais lay somewhere, drowned in her own blood and her cousin Gaspard now ruled in her place.  Anastasia had reservations about Gaspard, but the extremely handsome and virile commander of her army, Cullen, had assured her that that was what was best for Orlais and the Inquisition.  She walked to the edge of the balcony and gripped the railing as she listened to the nightingales urging her to join her own melodic voice with theirs. 

                She parted her sumptuous red lips and began to blend her voice with those of the Maker’s music makers.  “Your voice is as sweet and luscious as the rest of you,” a dark, sinister voice rumbled from behind her.  She turned to see Duke Gaspard, now Emperor Gaspard, behind her.  The dark dastardly monarch took a couple of more steps towards her.  He wore all black and his dark beard hid most of his face in a malevolent manner.

                “What… what do you want with me?”  Her voice quivered.  She had her magic, but Josephine would chide her so for using such means against Orlais’ emperor.

                “I want so much from you,” he lifted a gloved hand and parted her crimson cloak open so he could gaze admiringly on her heaving bosom.  He had already appreciated the perfect roundness of her breasts as their tops were displayed by the low cleavage of her silky white dress.  He wanted to see and do more with them… and the rest of her… as well.  “I want your hand in marriage, I want your maiden head, I want your body warming my bed and squirming under me in ecstasy.  I want it all.”

                “No!”  She protested.  “My heart belongs to another,” although she could not deny that there was something attractive about the emperor’s dark dangerous ways.  She also could not deny what her heart wanted though; and that was a man with well styled, golden curls and golden whisky eyes.  That was a man who had the most erotic scar across his sensuous lips; lips that she had only tasted once, but wanted to again.

                “He can have your heart,” Gaspard put a gloved hand on one of her perfectly rounded breasts.  “But I will be taking the rest.”  He leaned into her.

                “Unhand my lady!” As if hearing her thoughts about him, Cullen swung onto the balcony from a stout rope; hitting Gaspard in the chest and knocking him from his precious Inquisitor, his magical mage.  He unsheathed his long, hard sword and pointed it at Gaspard.  “Ally or no, if you touch another hair on her beautiful, perfect head, I shall run you through.”

                “This isn’t over,” Gaspard slinked away.

                “My hero,” Anastasia threw herself at Cullen.  He caught her and held her against his broad chest.

                He stroked her angelic face, studying it, and then looked into her emerald green eyes.  “Are you alright, my darling?”

                “You saved me,” she nodded.  “I did not know how to get away from him without hurting him and earning a terrible scolding from Josephine.”

                “Do not spare another perfect thought on it,” he continued to hold her close.  “I will bear the wrath of the yellow clad taskmistress for you.  After all, I was a Templar and you are a mage.  It is my job to protect you.”

                “Is there any way I can thank you for your service to me?”  She batted her eyelashes at him.  Would tonight finally be the night that her knight made her his.

                He leaned down and claimed her lips with his.  “I have several thoughts on that, my lady.  First, though, I want to dance with you.”  He traced his long fingers along her delicate throat until his they came to the ruby clasp that held her cloak in place.  He deftly removed it and flung the cloak from her, exposing the white satin of her dress.  Then he pulled her into his masculine arms and began to expertly move her in dance steps he claimed not to know.  The gentle, firm hand on her back commanded her where to move as his body guided hers.  She hoped he would guide her to more sensual things soon.

                “I want you to be there to protect me always,” she confided.  “I don’t want to be without you.  I am your mage to protect, Templar.”

                “Always,” he agreed, bringing those manly scarred lips down on hers again.  She loved the feel of that scar against her.  It was a hardness among with softness of his mouth.  She moaned and pulled her closer.

                “Make me yours,” she commanded.

                “As my lady wishes,” he grinned.  He tied the stout rope he had swung in on to the edge of the balcony and then crushed her to him.  Her arms clasped around him as he swung them down and through the open window of the guest room she had been assigned to.  There were lit candles everywhere and red rose petals blanketed the bed.  “I had my men set this up while we were dancing,” he confided.

                “Oh, Ser Cullen,” she kissed him fervently. “I need you to show me what it means to be your lover.  Take my maidenhood from me.”

                “With pleasure,” he gently sat her down among the rose petals and then slowly unbuttoned his formal military jacket.  As he exposed his manly chest, the candlelight glistened off of his rippling muscles and the heat from so many tiny fires caused his exposed skin to begin to glisten for her. 

                Anastasia’s fire was the one burning the greatest of all.  She stood and ran her hands up his hard abs and to his pulsating pecs.  She began to trail kisses up and down his perfect torso as he shrugged out of the top.  When his arms came around her, she looked up into his golden whiskey eyes.  Then she became distracted by the blonde stubble on his face.  She licked at it, enjoying the rough texture on her tongue.

He groaned and his hands untied the ruby red sash from around her waist and flung it onto the bed.  The he lifted her chin so he could crush his lips to hers once more.  After what seemed an eternity, he pulled away with a loud smack, as her lips tried to follow his.  “Patience,” he chuckled as he let his moth trail caresses down her chin, her neck, along her perfect heaving bosoms.  They wanted more, though and he could no longer wait.  He gripped the top of her dress and tore.  The dress ripped down to the hem and exposed her perfect, ivory skin.  She wore only her smalls and no breast ban that night and her voluptuous, perky globes reflected the candles, their rose petal tips standing out in invitation.  He took that invitation, pulling one between his teeth as he rolled the other between his fingers.  He gloried at her passionate moans and pulled one further into his mouth as he gripped her perfect waist.

“Oh, Cullen,” she wailed out her pleasure as she gripped the back of his golden head, one of her shapely legs lifts up so she caress his perfect glutes with her slippered foot. 

He finally pulled away from his bosom buddy and trailed kisses down her splendid stomach and then he came to her smalls.  He grinned up at her before he clasped the waistband of her smalls with his teeth and tore them away.  His attention stayed between her legs and he lifted her back onto the bed.  Her flaming red curls were now tumbling down and splayed around her as he spread her thighs and settled between them, letting his tongue delve into her fiery bush.  He delighted in her screams of ecstasy as she spread her legs further for him.

Cullen finally departed, despite Anastasia’s hand on his head that tried to guide him back to the spot.  “Please,” her perfect bottom lip stuck out in a plea.

“Later, my sweetest,” he climbed on the bed with her and slid his tongue into her mouth so she could taste the juices he had taken from her.  He would have loved to explore the dark, moist recesses of her mouth longer, but he could no longer deny the pressure that his little soldier was putting on his trousers; insisting that he be allowed to come out and play.  He pulled back until he was kneeling between her velvety, ivory thighs and opened his trousers, pulling them down out of the way so the little soldier could also admire the ivory goddess before them.

“Oh, my,” Anastasia ran her hand along the hard, yet soft steel of him.  “It’s so big.  Will it really fit into me?”

“Of course, my sweet maiden,” he ran a gentle hand up her.  “It was made for you.”

“Show me,” she spread her legs even further apart.  “Show me what it was made to do with me.”

He kissed her again and then pressed his sword of love into her velvety sheath.  He stopped when he got to her maiden head and crushed his lips to hers as his love sword crushed the flower of her maidenhood.  She let out a tiny sound half of protest, half of excitement.  Then his sword was firmly in her sheath.  She began to moan in bliss as he thrust his man spear in and out of her, her head fell back as the pressure in her built and built.  Calling out his name as he made her his in every way.

“That’s it, my beautiful sorceress,” he huffed as he sensed her nearing completion.  “Come for me, my love.”

She screamed as her body became pure euphoria and she found herself in a perfect paradise where there was only him and her and what he had done to her.  She felt him join her as his man seed exploded into her womb, seeking to merge with her.  He was calling her name and vowing to love her always, she grinned for she would love him always and it was good that he felt the same way.

As they finally came down from their mutual euphoria, he rolled over so she lay on top of him, their hearts erratically beating as one.  “I love you,” he swore.

“I love you, too,” she burrowed her head into his chest.  “You were right; we were made for each other.”


End file.
